


Put It All On Me

by Eddie_KaspbrakTozier



Series: It Was Always You [7]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sick Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier/pseuds/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier
Summary: Eddie hasn’t been acting like himself lately - he’s burnt dinner, forgotten where he’s placed his keys, lost his phone, etc. But now he’s done the most unEddie thing he has ever done - he forgot to put on sunscreen, resulting in a horrible sunburn and a trip to the ER.Richie is beyond concerned about his boyfriend. As Richie takes care of a burnt and sick Eddie he tries to find out what is behind Eddie’s strange behavior.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: It Was Always You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551535
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Put It All On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who have been reading and following the series! It means the world to me! I’ll be straightforward, for all of those who have been following the “It Was Always You” series there is NO proposal in this story. This story is essentially a prequel to Part 8, which I promise will contain Loser shenanigans, Reddie fluff, and a Richie-style proposal.
> 
> This story takes place two months after “The Best Part Of Me (Is You)”. 
> 
> Title based on “Put It All On Me” by Ed Sheeran feat. Ella Mai https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryJgDL9jzKk

**Put It All On Me**

**Richie’s POV**

The meeting room is tiny and stuffy. There are one too many chairs crammed around the oval table which is covered in crumpled empty candy wrappers. They’re only halfway through the writing session, and at this point they’re going to need a lot more than candy to make it through the rest of the day. 

Most of the writers and producers have already mentally checked out - all of their eyes are locked onto their phones - but there are two junior writers sitting in the corner bickering back and forth, arguing about the best way to end the season.

“No, no! The ending needs to be a real cliff hanger! We want the audience to beg for the next season!” The junior writer smacks the table, hoping to make his point.

The other junior writer jumps in, “Yes, but it needs to be a _clean_ ending. I know no one wants to think about it, but what if the show doesn’t get picked up for another season? It needs to have a hook but also needs to make sense on its own.”

The argument continues but Richie is only half paying attention. He’s tired and he’s already eaten half his weight in candy. The writer’s group has been in this stuffy meeting room since eight a.m., and they’re scheduled to be there until they finish the outline for the last episode, which at this point will probably take them through dinner.

Richie’s life has been a whirlwind since he won two Emmys last month for his Netflix Special - “That’s So Gay”. The show he’s writing, producing, and starring in was green lit the very next day. Since then he’s been in writing sessions and meetings everyday; not to mention he’s been giving a ton of interviews, been on magazine covers, etc. It’s been _exhausting_. 

Richie grabs another piece of candy, throwing the wrapper on the table as he tosses the chocolate into his mouth. 

“What do you think, Rich?” One of the producer’s jumps in, hoping to put an end to the argument.

Richie waves his hand, his mouth glued together with chocolate and carmel. Just as he manages to unglue his mouth, his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket he sees it’s Eddie.

“Oh sorry. I have to take this.” 

As he steps out into the hallway he hears the argument roar back to life. 

Richie picks up the phone, grinning. “Hi, baby! What’s up?” 

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice is strained, weak.

Richie freezes, all of his muscles tightening in fear. “Eddie? Baby?” 

“Rich?” Eddie sounds so soft, so quite, like he’s worlds away. 

“Baby? What is it? What’s wrong!?” Richie grips the phone tighter.

“Can you-” he takes a gasping breath, “Can you come pick me up?”

“Yeah, of course, baby. Where are you? I’ll come get you right away.” Richie shifts his weight back and forth, ready to bolt.

“I’m - uh - I’m at the Griffith Observatory.”

Already on the move, Richie yells, “Griffith Observatory! Got it, got it. I’ll be right there, baby! Don’t move!” Hanging up, Richie huffs, running all the way to his car.

Richie’s head is spinning with horrible thoughts as he drives, rather erratically, through downtown Los Angeles. The last time Richie heard Eddie sound so worn out - so _weak_ \- was when he ripped his stitches pulling weeds in the garden. Richie had found Eddie bleeding, barely holding on. The thought of Eddie being hurt - bleeding - makes him press a little harder on the gas pedal.

As he makes his way up the winding mountain he honks at car after car, trying to pass them on the narrow road. Finally cresting the mountain, the long and narrow white building of the Griffith Observatory comes into view. Screeching to a halt, Richie parks diagonally over two spaces, his eyes scanning the grassy lawn for Eddie. Jumping out of the car, Richie catches sight of him laying on a park bench. 

“Eddie!” Richie runs.

Eddie’s laying, back down, on a park bench, his arms crossed over his eyes, blocking them from the bright sun. What catches Richie off guard is how _red_ Eddie is. Eddie, who’s wearing his running shorts and tank top, is completely sunburnt.

“Baby?” Richie says softly, kneeling down.

Eddie grunts in acknowledgment, unmoving.

“Baby?” Reaching out, Richie places a delicate hand on Eddie’s arms. “Sweetheart? Let me see.” He pulls back Eddie’s arms, revealing an equally red face. “Oh, baby,” Richie moans.

“Hi,” Eddie croaks.

“Jesus, love, what happened?” 

Eddie groans, his eyes falling shut again. “Went for a run.”

“To Griffith Observatory!? That’s practically 10 miles!”

Eddie’s shoulders shrug in indifference. “Didn’t mean to run this far. Wanted to check out the train museum I told you about.”

“So how did you get all the way up here?”

“Kept running. I just had - uh - a lot of energy to burn off.”

“God, Eds. It’s almost a hundred degrees outside. No wonder you’re all red.”

Eddie grunts. “I forgot to put on sunscreen.”

Richie’s mouth drops open in shock. He doesn’t think he heard correctly. “I’m sorry. Say that again?”

Eddie repeats, blinking up at Richie, “I forgot to put on sunscreen. Was halfway to the museum when I remembered. Didn’t think it would matter.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?”

“Rich! This isn’t the time for jokes!” Eddie yells or attempts to yell, his voice so weak it comes out more like a whisper.

“It’s not a joke. I’m serious. What have you done to my boyfriend? You _never_ forget to put on sunscreen.”

Grunting in frustration, Eddie stands up, shoving Richie in the chest. “Richie! I don’t want to-” Suddenly, Eddie’s legs give out, his body crumpling into Richie’s open arms.

“Whoa! I gotcha! I gotcha!” Richie falls on his ass, cradling Eddie in his arms. “Eds? Eddie? Baby, are you ok!?” Richie pulls Eddie tight against his chest, curling his arms around him.

Eddie mumbles incoherently into Richie’s chest. 

“Eds, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong? I need to know what’s wrong.”

Pressing a hand against Richie’s chest, Eddie attempts to sit up but his touch is weak. His head bobbles on his shoulders, side to side lifelessly. His eyes bat a couple of times before they start to slowly drift close.

“Eddie!” Richie gives him a shake. Eddie’s eyes blink back open. 

He turns his head slowly toward Richie, his eyes dim with confusion. When his eyes lock with Richie’s, a little bit of light comes back. Gulping in a deep breath of air, Eddie only manages to stutter out a broken, “I - I-”, before a dry retching breath cuts him off. Scrambling out of Richie’s arms, Eddie’s body heaves as he throws up in the bright green grass.

Richie rubs Eddie’s back comfortably as he heaves a few more times. Once it seems like Eddie can’t throw up anymore, he sits in the grass, breathing heavily.

“You okay, baby?” Richie asks, continuing to rub Eddie’s back.

Eddie’s head just bobbles, somewhere between a shake and a nod. Richie doesn’t know if Eddie actually heard him or not. 

“Ok, baby, how about we get you into the car?” He slings one of Eddie’s arms over his shoulder, grabbing him by the waist to slowly walk him to the car. Eddie is practically lifeless in his arms, just following Richie’s motions.

With one arm still around Eddie’s waist, he opens the car door before turning back to lift Eddie into his arms and place him in the passenger seat. Slamming the car door shut, Richie runs to the driver’s side, starts the car, and peels out of the parking lot.

Weaving down the mountain, Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie the whole time - well, most of the time, way more than he should considering he’s driving down a windy, narrow road. 

Eddie, now out of the burning October sun, looks a lot worse than when Richie first saw him. His skin is a vibrant, scathing red, like he’s been boiled alive. Eddie’s head is slumped against the window, shifting side to side in the direction the road is taking them. Richie didn’t even bother to buckle Eddie in, which, surprisingly, Eddie hasn’t even noticed. 

At a stop light, Richie reaches a hand over, placing it on Eddie’s forehead. He’s burning up. It’s then Richie makes a decision, changing his course of direction. It’s only ten minutes later when he’s pulling into another parking lot although Richie manages to park normally this time, now that Eddie’s with him.

“Eds? Eddie?” Richie shakes Eddie’s shoulder, trying to wake him up. “Eds?” He raises his voice a little, managing to wake Eddie from his slumber.

“Wha- where are we?” Eddie looks around, half asleep.

“The hospital.”

“What!?” His body flinches, suddenly awake. “WHY!?”

“Baby,” Richie speaks softly, his hand reaching out to grab Eddie’s. “You don’t look well. I - I think you might have heat stroke.”

“Heat stroke!? No, no way.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Eddie-” 

“I’m fine, Rich.” Eddie snaps, yanking his hand out of Richie’s. “I’m just a little tired is all. I mean, I probably over exerted myself today, but it’s not _that_ big of a deal. I didn’t drink any water so that explains why I threw up. I wasn’t fully hydrated. If I drink some water and lay down for a little bit, I’ll be fine! That’s it. That’s all-” Eddie continues to rabble as he stares down at his running shoes.

“Eddie, baby-” Richie tries to interrupt, but Eddie just keeps talking.

“It wasn’t _that long_ of a run. And there was shade most of the way. I mean, at least until I started to go up the mountain-”

“Eddie! Baby, listen!” Richie grabs Eddie’s arm, managing to get his attention. “Eddie, you are burning up. And you looked like you’ve been cooked alive.”

Before Richie’s even finished, Eddie’s shaking his head, closing his eyes, trying to shut out Richie’s words. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little overheated. That’s ALL!”

“That’s ALL!?” Shocked and confused, Richie shakes head. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie! You ran ten miles in 100 degree heat! You ran up a fucking mountain! Your skin is the same color as a lobster, and I’m pretty sure if I broke an egg on you, your skin would be able to cook it!”

“Oh, now you’re just exaggerating!” Eddie yanks his arm away, scooting as far into his seat as he can manage.

“Exaggerating!? Exaggerating!? Oh, ok! You wanna play this game, Eddie? Fine! Who was the one that drilled the symptoms of heat stroke into my head? Huh? Huh? Oh, let me think? You did!” Richie jabs a finger in Eddie’s direction. “And what are the symptoms you might ask?” Richie straightens his posture, doing his Professor voice. “Well, let me tell you!” He goes through the list, counting each symptom off on his fingers. “Fever - check! Excessive sweating - check! Nausea or vomiting - check, check!”

Eddie shakes his head side to side. Overcome, he just bursts out. “God dammit! I’m FINE!”

“YOU ARE NOT FINE! AND SO HELP ME, I WILL DRAG YOU INTO THAT HOSPITAL IF I HAVE TO!”

“GOD DAMN IT, RICHIE! YOU’RE ACTING JUST LIKE MY FUCKING MOTHER!” Eddie spits, so violently actual spit and sweat hit Richie’s face.

Silence fills the car.

Both of them are so shocked they simply stare at each other, their mouths hanging open.

Taking a shuddering breath, Richie turns to stare at the steering wheel as tears pool in his eyes.

“Richie-” Eddie places a hand on Richie’s arm, but Richie jerks away.

“Don’t,” Richie spits.

“Richie-”

“That was uncalled for.” Richie wipes away a few tears, refusing to look at Eddie.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, all of his anger having left him. “I’m just frustrated and angry-”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Not with you,” Eddie interrupts, “with _me_.”

Surprised, Richie turns to look at a deflated Eddie. “You?”

“Yeah, cause you’re right. I’m not-” He gulps, resting his hand on Richie’s arm, which Richie accepts. “I’m not _ok_ . I don’t feel well _at all_ and it’s _all my fault._ ”

“No, it’s not, Eddie.” Richie places a hand on Eddie’s.

“Yes, it is. I was stupid. I should have just gone back to the house when I realized I didn’t put on sunscreen, and I shouldn’t have run up that fuckin’ mountain in this fucking weather!”

“Eddie, stop. It’s not your fault.”

Nodding, Eddie deflates, falling back into his seat. Taking a deep breath he looks at Richie. “Will you carry me? I don’t think I can walk.”

“Of course, baby. Here, let me-” Richie scrambles out of the car, dashing to the passenger’s side. When he pulls the door open, he catches Eddie, who practically falls out. “Ok, ok. I gotcha.” Richie shuffles Eddie in his arms until he’s carrying him bridal style. Eddie, surprisingly, doesn’t make a fuss about it.

Balancing on one foot, Richie kicks the car door closed. He carries Eddie into the packed waiting room of the ER. Every seat is full, filled with people with assorted injuries - broken arms, burns, people coughing into their elbows. Richie finds an empty wheelchair abandoned in the corner. He places Eddie down softly, flipping down the foot pedals before wheeling over to the check-in window where a clearly tired nurse types away furiously.

“Hello? My boyfriend isn’t feeling well. I think he might have heat stroke.” 

Without looking up, she hands him a clipboard and a pen. “Please fill this out and bring it back. We’ll get him in as soon as we can.”

Wheeling Eddie to an empty corner, Richie fills out the paperwork, holding the clipboard up against the wall, asking Eddie questions as he needs to. He hands the paperwork back, only getting a slight nod from the nurse. Walking back to Eddie, Richie pulls over a chair which luckily just became free.

“Feelin’ ok, baby?”

Eyes closed, Eddie grunts. His head is tilted, awkwardly resting on against his shoulder. 

“Want some water or anything?”

Eddie shakes his head, slumping down further in his chair, seemingly falling asleep. Richie grabs one of Eddie’s hands, his eyes glazing over as they wait for Eddie’s turn.

Time slowly ticks by. Every time a nurse comes out, Richie sits up hoping for them to call Eddie’s name, but every time it’s someone else’s name they call.

It occurs to Richie this isn’t by any means the first time he’s rushed Eddie to the ER. Although this is the first time Eddie wasn’t yanked out of Richie’s arms the moment they arrived.

By the time an hour rolls around, Richie is on the verge of asking what the hell is going on when a nurse bursts through the swinging doors calling, “Eddie Kaspbrak!”

“Yes, yes! Here! Here!” Jumping up, Richie rolls Eddie over, jolting him awake.

“Come with me please.” The nurse turns on her heels, walking back through the swinging doors. 

Surprised, Richie follows, wheeling Eddie down a short hallway which leads to a large stark white room. A nurses station sits in the center and there are a number of small rooms lining the walls, white curtains blocking the view into some of them.

“We’re going to have you in this room,” she says, pulling back a white curtain, revealing a tiny white room with a hospital bed, covered in white sheets. “If you lay down, I’ll take your vitals. Do you need any help getting into the bed?”

“No, no,” Richie shakes his head. “I got it. Come on, baby.” Slotting his arms under Eddie’s, he lifts him up and out of the chair. Eddie’s unsteady on his feet, leaning on Richie as he wobbles his way to the bed. He flops, stomach first onto the bed. With Richie’s help, he flips over and scoots up the bed.

The nurse proceeds to check Eddie’s vitals, asking him questions. Each of Eddie’s answers receives a confident nod from the nurse.

“Well, you definitely have heat stroke. Your temperature is really high - 104 degrees. Your skin is extremely red which you’re definitely going to feel later. I think we should get you out of those clothes. They are very restricting and not helping your skin breath so let's get you out of them and into an ice bath. It’ll help to bring your temperature down. How does that sound?”

Eddie nods, mutedly. 

“Ok. I’ll have someone get the ice bath ready.” She nods at both of them before walking out of the room, swinging the curtain shut behind her.

“Here, I gotcha, baby.” 

Helping Eddie sit up, Riche grabs the bottom of Eddie’s shirt, slowly pulling it over his head revealing the outline of Eddie’s tank top which is practically burnt into his skin. Richie pulls off Eddie’s shoes and socks before reaching up, grabbing the band of his shorts.

“Hips up, babe.” 

Eddie lifts his hips, allowing Richie to peel off Eddie’s shorts which elicits a hiss from Eddie as they rub against his raw skin. Now completely nude, Eddie pulls his legs into his chest, wrapping his arms around them, looking like he would give anything to get sucked into the bed and disappear.

As if magically summoned, the nurse reappears. “Ok, Mr. Kaspbrak, your bath is ready.” She hands Richie a worn cloth gown.

“Ok, can you scoot to the edge of the bed for me, sweetheart?” Richie holds out the gown, sliding Eddie’s arms through the two holes in the sides. Grabbing both of Eddie’s hands, he helps Eddie slowly walk toward the wheelchair, trying to close the back of the gown so he isn’t on full display.

The nurse leads them down hallway after hallway, finally stopping outside another stark white room, although in the middle of this room sits a large white tub filled with blue ice water, the surface covered in ice cubes.

Richie lets out a low whistle, “Wow. That water looks colder than what killed the people on the Titanic.” Richie grins at his own joke, hoping to get a small smile out of Eddie, but Eddie just frowns, keeping his eyes trained on the water as Richie heaves him up and out of his chair.

“Hey,” Richie says softly, giving Eddie a little shake.

Eddie’s trace breaks, his eyes shifting from the blue water to Richie.

Richie smiles. “Ready to take the plunge, Jack?”

Eddie smiles softly before nodding.

Keeping one hand locked with Eddie’s, Richie uses his other hand to tug the single tie at the back of Eddie’s gown, the knot coming undone without any resistance. The gown falls from Eddie’s shoulders, pooling at his feet. Grabbing Eddie tightly by his forearms, Richie helps him scale the high tub walls. As Eddie sits down, ice formations breaking around him, he lets out a long relaxing sigh.

Richie hisses, pulling his arms out of the freezing water. “Damn! That’s fucking COLD!”

“It doesn’t feel cold actually. Feels kinda nice.” 

Richie pulls up the wheelchair, sitting in it. “That’s cause you’re on fire, love.”

Eddie hums, closing his eyes.

The nurse swings back around, “Ok, Mr. Kaspbrak, I’ll be back in less than five minutes. Hopefully that will be enough time to bring your fever down.”

As soon as she leaves, Eddie groans, sinking deeper into the water, “This is sooo embarrassing. I’m a grown man and here I am, butt-ass naked with my tank top and shorts stamped onto my skin!” 

Richie rubs a hand along Eddie’s neck. “I’m sure they’re used to it, baby. They see naked people all the time. It probably doesn’t even register with them anymore. Although, I wouldn’t blame them for noticing someone as hot and sex-”

“I _mean_ , I shouldn’t even be in this position! I’m forty-three fucking years old! I should be able to take care of myself!” 

“Baby, it’s ok. It happens to everyone. You just need to rest.” 

“Ugh. It’s going to take _forever_ for this tan to go away. I’ll have to wear long sleeve shirts and pants for the rest of the year!”

“Or you’ll just have to hide away at home. Just lay around the house...completely naked.”

“Oh yeah? Would you wait on me hand and foot?”

“Mhm. Of course I would, love.”

Eddie chuckles, “It would be a little hard to garden naked. Might scare our neighbors.”

Richie snorts, “I actually think Mrs. L would enjoy it. She’d probably plop down a big ol’ lawn chair and watch you work while she sucks down a gallon of iced tea.”

“What _are_ you talking about?”

“What? It’s pretty obvious she’s got the hots for ya. She brings over pumpernickel bread at least once a week.”

“Ok, _Laurie_ does that cause I help her with her garden. She’s like eighty years old for crying out loud.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what about last week when _Laurie_ brought over a literal _stud muffin_ ?” 

“She wanted to say thank you for me plowing her garden!”

“Is that what the kids are calling it now a days?”

“You’re such a jerk!” Eddie whines, throwing an ice cube at Richie.

“Hey! Don’t throw your icebergs at me!” Richie grabs the ice cube from the floor where it lands after hitting his shoulders. He flicks it at Eddie, but Eddie easily dodges it, flinging another ice cube.

“Don’t throw ice cubes at _me_! I’m hurt!” Eddie yells, firing more rounds.

“You threw them at me first!” Richie puts up his arms, shielding his face as he dives for the ice cubes sliding on the floor, flinging them back blindly. 

The nurse appears in the doorway. “Alright, Mr. Kaspbrak. Let’s see how...you’re...doing.” She stops short as she catches sight of their ice fight. Both Richie and Eddie freeze, their arms up mid-throw. 

As the nurse walks in, a frown etched on her face, Richie hastily picks up the ice cube scattered on the floor, plunking them discreetly back into the tub.

Ignoring Richie, the nurse whips a thermometer out, quickly taking Eddie’s temperature. “Good. Down to 99 degrees. That’s a good start. Let’s get you out of here so your temperature doesn’t keep plummeting.”

Eddie nods, grabbing the sides of the tub to push up. Richie instinctively stands up, grabbing Eddie by his waist, helping him to climb out of the tub. Eddie’s skin feels like a block of ice which instantly freezes Richie’s fingers, but Richie’s unfazed, he continues to hold Eddie as tight as he can. As Eddie places his second foot on the floor he loses his balance, sliding in a small puddle from their ice cube fight.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Richie yells, managing to catch Eddie.

“I’m ok. I’m ok,” Eddie mumbles, easing down to sit on the edge of the tub.

“Ok, just sit tight.” Richie’s hands hover over Eddie, not wanting to go too far. “I’m just gonna grab - some - towels.” Richie says through gritted teeth, reaching for a tower of towels with his finger tips. A pile falls to the ground, washing up around at their feet. Richie picks up a few, ignoring the mess he made.

Richie delicately pats up and down Eddie’s limbs, trying to be careful of Eddie’s sunburn. Throwing one towel aside, Richie grabs another, quickly rubbing Eddie’s head.

“OH, Richie! That hurts!” Eddie swats at Richie’s hands.

Richie immediately drops his hands. “Oh, fuck! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I guess your scalp is burned too. Are you ok?” Richie kneels down to see Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m - I’m ok.” Eddie nods, smiling softly.

“Ok. Now, where is that-,” Richie searches the ground for Eddie’s gown. “Ah! There!” He finds it camouflage against the pool of white towels littering the floor. He plucks it up, threading Eddie’s arms through it. Without much fuss, Richie manages to get Eddie back in the chair and then back to his room.

Once Eddie’s back in bed and covered in a shabby, thin white blanket, the nurse returns wheeling over a IV stand. Taking Eddie’s arm, she inserts the IV needle, “We’re going to give you some fluids and have you rest for a little bit. See how you feel after that. Now, I’m going to turn off the lights and you are going to get some _rest_.” She makes this last comment directly at Richie, giving him a pointed look before turning off the lights and leaving.

Richie blinks a few times, his eyes quickly finding Eddie in the half light. “Why did she say that to _me_?”

“She knows you started our little ice fight,” Eddie smirks.

“I did not!”

“You did too,” Eddie throws back.

“Pssst,” Richie blows a raspberry, rolling his eyes, not wanting to get Eddie riled up. He pulls a chair up to Eddie’s bed, sitting down as he takes Eddie’s hand. “Get some rest, hon. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Eddie takes Richie’s hand. “Thanks, Rich. For everything.” 

“No need to thank me, baby. You know I’ll always take care of you. Just get some rest.”

Eddie nods, a small smile stretched on his face as he snuggles down into the bed, his eyes falling shut. Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie, happy to see him feeling a little better. As Eddie falls deeper and deeper into sleep, Richie’s mind starts to wander.

This isn’t the first time Eddie has acted strange. Recently, he’s forgotten to water his garden for a whole week, he’s lost his house keys, and he’s forgotten to buy things at the grocery store. Although this is _by far_ the strangest thing he has done.

The thing is, Richie knows why Eddie’s been acting so strange. He’s been acting like this for the last two weeks, ever since they got a text from Bev & Ben.

They were at their neighborhood Whole Foods, shopping for groceries like they do every Sunday evening. Richie, with his forearms resting on the cart, was following Eddie dutifully down each aisle. 

“Ok, now we need…,” Eddie scans the grocery list, something he’s always in charge of, checking off items as they’re placed into their cart. “Pasta!” Eddie turns to the row upon row of boxes filling the wall, scanning the items.

Richie chews his lip, watching as Eddie’s hand reaches for a box of wheat pasta, before pulling back to grab a box of “regular” pasta. Richie’s eyes find Eddie’s as he throws it into the cart. 

“Thanks, baby,” Richie smiles.

Eddie smirks before shifting his gaze back to the grocery list, walking down the aisle. Richie picks up his step, following quickly. Half way down the aisle, without stopping, Richie reaches out, grabbing a box of double-stuffed Oreos, throwing it in the cart. He knows Eddie will see them when they check out, but he also knows Eddie will just smile and ask for Richie to share later.

“Ok, we need to go to the butcher,” Eddie says. “We should get some pancetta.

“OOh! Let’s get some extra for snacking!” 

“That’s a good idea! It’s really good with cheese and crackers.” Eddie agrees, pulling a number for the butcher.

“Good with a glass of wine too. I mean, that’s what you drink with pasta, right? Wine?”

Eddie hums, “White wine. We should get some.” 

“Fuck yeah, going to be a great date night. Going to get wild and crazy.”

“Yes, wild and crazy on a _Thursday_.” 

Richie wiggles is his eyebrows at Eddie.

Eddie laughs, swatting a hand at Richie. The butcher calls out their number forcing Eddie to hide his laugh behind his hand.

As Eddie talks to the butcher, Richie browses a display of various cheeses, wondering which one would go best with white wine. Reaching out to pick one up, his phone vibrates in his pocket, gaining his attention. 

Pulling out his phone, Richie sees a text from Bev in the Loser’s group chat.

Richie’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. Before he can even get his fingers to the keyboard little bubbles appear under Bev’s text.

The text is from Stan.

The next message comes from Mike.

A message from Bill quickly follows.

Another message from Stan.

Bev manages to respond, amidst the barrage of messages.

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, stepping up next to Richie. “I’m having him cut the pancetta again. He cut it way too thick. It was like jerky.” 

“I like jerky.”

“Mhm, not good for carbonara though.” Eddie grunts, as he notices Richie’s phone. “What’s going on?” He peaks over Richie’s shoulder, at the messages. “Oh, wow! What the fuck is going on?”

“No clue.” 

Without warning, his phone lights up, vibrating in his hand, the screen showing a video call from Bev. Eddie scoots in closer to Richie, peering over his shoulder as he picks up. A few of the other Losers are already on - Ben & Bev are sitting on their couch, their dog laying at their feet; Stan & Patty sitting at the kitchen counter with dinner on the stove in the background.

“Hi!” “Hello!” “Hi, everyone!” A choir of hellos ring out, everyone waving.

“This better be good, Bev. You scared the shit out of everyone,” Richie says.

“Yeah, is everything ok?” Patty asks.

“No, no, everything is ok. I promise. It’s just Ben and I got a call and we need to talk to everyone before we miss out on something.” 

“What da fuck does that mean?” Eddie frowns.

“Well, Ben and I got a call from one of Ben’s partners in the firm-,” She stops, frustrated. “Ugh! I wanted to tell this to everyone! Where are those Losers!?” Bev snatches up her phone, her fingers flying. 

As if on cue, Bill and Audra pop up on screen. They’re clearly on set, in between takes; there are light rigs and a swarm of people milling around in the background. 

“Hello!” “Hi!” Audra and Bill wave. 

“We only have a few minutes before we have to go back on set. What’s going on?” Bill asks.

“Oh, good! You’re here!” Ben chimes in, “Now we just need-”

Another face appears, Mike this time. He’s in the driver seat of his RV, the windows dark except for the lights of a few passing cars.

“Hello!” Mike grins, waving. 

“Mikey, you better not be driving!” Eddie chides. 

“No, no,” Mikey smiles. “I pulled off into a rest station. What’s going on? Did I miss anything?”

“OK, you guys aren’t going to _believe_ this,” Bev smiles, ready to get to business. “Ben and I got a call from one of the partners at his firm-”

“Sir!” The butcher yells, gaining Eddie and Richie’s attention. 

“Oh, crap!” Eddie jumps, fast-walking to the counter.

Richie quickly turns his attention back to the call.

“So my partner was telling me that he’s going to be putting his Swiss chalet up on the market soon.” Ben is talking now. “Bev and I have been there a number of times. We went there a lot when I was on a break from working on the Lego House in Denmark. You know, since it was so close. Anyway, he asked if we wanted to use it during the holidays!”

Bev nods enthusiastically. “Isn’t that amazing! It’s gorgeous, you guys! Completely stunning. And it has enough rooms for all of us to be comfortable. You’ll love it!”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Mike jumps in, already glowing with excitement. “Are you suggesting we could go to-”

Bev and Ben interrupt, yelling, “The Swiss Alps!”

A dull roar breaks out through Richie’s tiny speakers. 

“WHAT!?” 

“Oh my gosh, we’ve never been there before, honey!” 

“That’s amazing!”

The only thing Richie manages is a soft, “Holy shit.” 

“Wait, where in the Swiss Alps?” Stan asks, leaning closer.

“That’s the best part!” Ben says, “His chalet is right at the base of the Matterhorn! In Zermatt!”

Another roar of voices ring out. 

“Ok! Ok!” Bev yells. “But we need to let him know ASAP if we want to go so he doesn’t give it to someone else. That’s why we called all of you. So what does everyone think?”

Without hesitation, Mikey jumps in, “I’m in. I’m beyond in. I’ve never been to Europe, or outside the US for that matter. So yeah, count me in!”

“Us too,” Patty adds. “We’ve never been to the Swiss Alps.”

“Oh, I love the Alps! They’re so beautiful at Christmas!” Audra says. “I think it’s a lovely idea, don’t you, Bill?”

“Absolutely! Count us in,” Bill agrees.

“Ok, great! Rich? Eddie? What do you think?” Bev asks.

“Yeah, of course! Sounds incredible! Looking forward to it!” Richie gives a thumbs up.

“Fantastic!” Bev claps her hands, turning to grin at Ben. “Let’s call Kevin to say we’ll take it!” She turns back to the camera, waving, “We’ll let you know all the details. Love you all! Bye!” 

They all wave, saying goodbye at the same time as Bev hangs up.

Eddie comes back, holding a paper wrapped package. “I had the butcher cut it _again_. It was still too thick. Ridiculous. Doesn’t he know how to cut pancetta?” He places the package in the cart. “What did Bev & Ben say?” Eddie asks over his shoulder as he starts walking down the aisle, looking at the list again.

“One of Ben’s partners is letting us use their house for the holidays. They wanted to check with everyone before they agreed.” Richie follows, resting his arms on the cart as he ambles after Eddie.

“Oh yeah? That’s amazing.” Eddie stops, glancing at the items on the shelf.

“Yeah, apparently it’s big enough for all of us.” 

“Wow, really!?” Eddie picks up a loaf of bread, turning it over to read the ingredients. “Must be fucking huge. Where is it? Upper state New York?” 

“What? No, it’s in Switzerland. Can’t you believe that? Right in the Swiss Alps. Of course, Ben would have friends who owned a _chalet_ in the Swiss Alps. Isn’t that nuts?” Richie laughs, but he’s only greeted by silence. Glancing up, he finds Eddie locked in place, eyes wide, his hand squeezing the bread so tight it’s oozing out between his fingers.

“Eds? Eddie?”

“Switz-” Eddie gulps, shakingly placing the destroyed loaf of bread on the shelf. “Switzer _land_?” Eddie croaks.

“Yeah,” Richie frowns. “Right near the Matterhorn.” 

A small “oh” escapes Eddie’s lips, color draining from his body. 

“Eds?” Richie pushes the cart to the side, stepping up to Eddie. “Eddie? What is it? What’s wrong?” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I - I -” Eddie stammers, fiddling with his hands as his eyes shift here and there, but never looking at Richie. “I - I don’t have a passport!” he yells. 

“Uh. Ok? That’s ok. It’s easy to get one. We’ll just go to the post office to fill out an application.”

“Does it - uh - does it take long to get one? Do they - do they deny people passports?”

Richie’s eyes narrow, “Uuuuh, noo. It's pretty fast. Typically. And I don’t think they deny anyone a passport. I mean, unless they’re a convicted criminal. You’re not a convicted criminal, are you, babe?” Richie laughs, trying to get Eddie to crack a smile. When it doesn’t work, he continues, “Not hiding anything from me, Eds? No secret criminal life that I don’t know about?”

Eddie shakes his head, not really paying attention to Richie’s joke. “Umm, well - huh - what about diseases?”

“Diseases!? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, it’s a different country! I have no idea what kind of viruses or diseases they have there! I’m gonna have to visit my doctor to see if I need any booster shots or - or - _inoculation_ shots.” By now Eddie has gained traction, gaining more energy as he goes, only getting louder and louder. “I should ask him if I’m healthy enough for that long of a flight! I mean, what is that!? A fourteen - _sixteen_ hour flight!? Do you know how many people get blood clots from long flights!? 

“Eddie! Eddie!” Richie yells over Eddie, grabbing his arms.

“You can develop deep vein thrombosis or pulmonary embolism! It’s dangerous if you’re not healthy!”

“Eddie! Baby, calm down!” Richie gives him a slight shake, breaking Eddie from his tirade. Eddie’s shaking under Richie’s hands. “Hey, it’s ok, sweetheart. It’s not a big deal. People fly internationally everyday.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze is unfocused, not really taking in Richie’s words. “Ok. Ok. But, what about - what about-” The words get stuck in his throat as his breathing gets faster and faster. His body shakes harder under Richie’s hands as he sucks in large gulps of air. “I - I - I need to go outside!” He jerks out of Richie’s arms, running out the doors to the parking lot.

“EDDIE!” Richie yells, running after Eddie, leaving their half-filled cart in the middle of the aisle.

Richie’s phone rings in his pocket, bringing him back to the little white emergency room. Pulling out his phone, Richie sees it’s Bill.

Stepping out from behind the curtain into the bright hallway, Richie picks up. “Hey, Bill.”

“Hey, Rich! Audra and I wanted to see if you and Eddie were free tonight? We have an unexpected night off from shooting. We were thinking maybe dinner and a movie? You know, like a double date? What do ya say?”

“Oh man, we would love to Bill but Eddie’s come down with a cold.” Rich doesn’t like lying to any of the Losers, but he doesn’t think Eddie is ready to share this little incident with them yet.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is he ok?”  
  
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. You know how Eddie is though. He’s taking all of the medicine you can imagine and resting. And, he wouldn’t want to get either of you sick.” 

“Yeah, of course. We’ll do it another time then.”

“Yeah, we’ll take a rain check, ok? Give my love to Audra! Bye!”

Bill says goodbye before Richie hangs up. Pulling back the curtain, Richie steps back into the dimly lit room, his eyes slowly adjusting to take in Eddie’s sleeping form. Slumping in his chair, his mind goes back to the incident in the grocery store.

Richie found Eddie crouched down next to their car in the parking lot, his hands holding his head between knees, breathing deeply. Richie managed to get Eddie into the car and back to their house, but it wasn’t until they were curled up on the couch together - Richie curved around Eddie’s back, holding him to his chest - that Richie managed to get Eddie’s breathing back to normal. They laid there for a while until they both fell asleep. 

When Richie woke, he found Eddie awake, still curled in his arms, staring blankly at the wall. It was then Eddie admitted that he’s never traveled outside of the US, never flown internationally before. Of course Richie assured him there was nothing to worry about, but again Eddie just nodded, agreeing, but Richie could tell that Eddie was still worried. He just didn’t want to show it.

They haven’t talked about it since, but since then Eddie’s been acting strange, distracted. He’s burnt dinner a number of times. He’s misplaced his keys around the house, only to find them in the strangest places - in the cupboard, in between the couch cushions, in his shoes. He’s pulled out whole bushes of roses instead of weeds.

Richie hasn’t said a word. He wanted to give Eddie time to think, but he’s only gotten more and more worried. Although, he thinks it’s time they finally talked. 

Eddie stirs, rolling over onto his side, letting out a sharp hiss. “Oh, fuck!” Eddie pushes up on his arms, the sheet falling down his chest.

“You ok, honey?” Richie reaches out to place a hand on Eddie’s arm, but pulls back at the last second. He places a hand in the valley of Eddie’s waist instead.

“Ugg, I feel like shit. Everything hurts.” Eddie rolls back onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll go find the nurse. She might be able to give you something.” Richie stands up and flicks open the curtain, catching sight of their nurse. She nods, making her way over.

“Hello, Mr. Kaspbrak. How are you feeling?” She steps up besides his bed, checking his vitals. 

“Tired. And my whole body feels like it’s on fire.” 

“Mhm, yes, you’re starting to feel your sunburn. I’ll give you some Tylenol, but you’ll want to put some aloe vera on when you get home. That’ll cool it down a little bit.” 

“Does that mean I’m good to go?” Eddie asks, hopeful.

“Yes, BUT,” she emphasizes, making sure she has both of their attention, “you have to get a lot of rest, stay hydrated, and stay out of the sun. Okay?” She nods at both of them, holding eye contact until they nod in return. “Okay. Good. Shall I send in a wheelchair for you?

Eddie nods, “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course. Take care.” She nods again, a form of farewell, before exiting out the curtain.

“Need some help, sweetie?” Richie picks up Eddie’s running shorts which were strewn over the other chair in the room.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Eddie groans, sitting up, flinging the sheets away. He scoots gingerly to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over.

Richie stretches the waistband with both hands, slipping them under Eddie’s feet and slides them up until he’s blocked by the edge of the bed. “Ok - huh - could you stand up, babe? Here, you can rest your hands on my back.” 

A long drawn out groan escapes Eddie’s lips as he pushes himself up. He wobbles on his feet for a few seconds before collapsing on Richie, his forehead resting against the curve of Richie’s back. Richie continues but stops shorts when Eddie hisses, digging his nails into Richie’s skin, when the shorts brush up against Eddie’s burn.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” Richie cringes, continuing to pull Eddie shorts up. 

Once they’re on, Eddie plunks back down on the bed, huffing. 

Richie picks up Eddie’s shirt, glancing between it and Eddie. He holds up, showing it to Eddie, cocking his head to the side in question.

Eddie whines, eyeing the shirt as if it might leap out and bite him. “Can we - huh - can we maybe not?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetcheeks.” Richie swings the shirt over his shoulder. “Or should I say sweet _abs_? You’re gonna have the nurses running after you if I wheel you out of here like this.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh please.”

Richie pulls in the wheelchair left by the nurse, swinging it over to Eddie, locking the wheels in place. “Gonna have to _beat_ them away.” Hooking an arm under Eddie’s, he lifts him up, helping to shuffle him to the chair. “Might have to use your shirt as a whip!” Richie chuckles at his own joke.

“Oh, Richie,” Eddie moans, slumping into the chair. “I don’t feel sexy _at all_ right now!”

“Oh, Eddie, baby, you’re simply _radiant_!” Richie grabs Eddie’s socks and shoes, unlocks the wheels, and then zooms out of the room. 

Once to the car, Richie helps Eddie climb in. Eddie rests his head against the window the whole ride home, silently watching the scenery. When they get home, Eddie’s so tired he asks Richie to carry him, which Richie is only too happy to do. After kicking the car door closed he makes his way into the house, kicking the garage door open followed by their bedroom door. 

Juggling Eddie in his arms, Richie tries to pull back the covers. “Ok, let me just-”

“Rich.”

“I almost - got - it” Richie grunts, biting his lip in concentration. 

“Rich, just put me down.” 

Richie puffs out a breath of air, blowing curls out of his eyes. “Ok, ok.” He places Eddie gently on the bed.

“Uuuggghhh” Eddie groans, shifting out of Richie’s arms, onto the bed. “Fuck. This comforter feels like sandpaper.” He scratches at the corners, pulling the comforter back to roll onto the cool sheets. “Oh, that’s _sooo_ much better,” Eddie sighs, sinking into the bed. He turns his head toward Richie. “Can you take off my shorts? They’re _killing_ me.”

“Oh baby, you know there’s nothing I love more than taking your clothes off,” Richie grins.

“Ugh, I feel like a burnt piece of toast.” Eddie lifts his hips, allowing Richie to pull his shorts off.

“Nonsense.” Richie flings Eddie’s shorts behind his shoulder before lying down on his side, curling around Eddie, careful not to touch any bright red skin. “You’re a sexy piece of toast. Avocado toast level of sexy.” 

Eddie just smiles softly, but it falls, taking on a serious expression. “Thanks again, Rich.”

“Like I said, no need to thank me.”

“Still. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Eddie places a loving hand on Richie’s cheek.

“Don’t worry about that.” Richie says, grabbing Eddie’s hand to kiss the back of it. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’m gonna go get some supplies.” 

Eddie grunts in acknowledgment as his eyes fall shut. Richie lays there for a couple of minutes, drawing circles on Eddie’s palm as he watches him sleep. Just as Richie feels sleep starting to come over him, he rolls out of bed, pulling the sheets over Eddie’s sleeping form. He plants a kiss on Eddie’s forehead before making his way to their bathroom. 

He pulls open the cabinet underneath Eddie’s sink, shifting through all of the rattling bottles, half-empty tubes of lotions, & sunscreens until he finds the aloe vera in the back. Unfortunately it’s practically empty. In early summer Richie got a sunburn after he fell asleep floating in the pool. Eddie had berated him the whole time he rubbed aloe vera on Richie’s burnt skin. 

Returning to their bedroom, Richie jots down a quick note on the pad of paper next to his nightstand. He leaves it on Eddie’s nightstand, kissing him again before heading out. 

/

  
  


Richie quickly returns from the grocery store carrying a paper bag in the crook of his arm and a string of Gatorade in his other hand. Just as he places his haul on the counter he hears Eddie calling from the bedroom. 

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice is soft, still laced with sleep.

Richie’s immediately perks up. “I’m here! I’m coming, babe!” 

Leaving the items on the counter, he makes his way to the bedroom. He finds Eddie sitting up, the sheets pooling around his white belly.

“I’m hungry,” he states matter of factly. 

“Oh, really? That’s good. That means you’re feeling better.” Richie plops down on the bed, grabbing Eddie’s sheet covered knee. “What can I get for you? I’m unfortunately not skilled enough to make your famous chicken noodle soup.” 

“Oh - huh - can I have some Matzah ball soup?” 

“Matzah ball soup! Oh my gosh, you’re a better Jew than I am, honey!”

“I know Canter’s is a bit of a drive. Is that ok?” Eddie’s brow creases, worried he’s being a bother.

“What!? Of course it’s ok! Don’t even worry about it, love. Oh my god, I’m going to get a corned beef reuben! Fuck, that sounds so good.” 

“Are you _sure_? I feel bad making you drive all that way.” 

“Don’t feel bad. I’m already on my way. See?” Richie jumps up, planting a kiss to Eddie’s forehead before slowly walking backward out of the room. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up for me, baby. Actually, do wait up for me cause I’m gonna have your dinner. Ok! I’m leaving!” Richie calls, backing into the hallway, gripping the side of the door frame, leaning so only his head is poking out. “OK! I’m really leaving now! Bye! Love you!” 

“You’re ridiculous. I love you too,” Eddie snorts. 

Richie blows him a kiss and then heads down the hallway, going back out into the night.

  
  


/

  
  


“Eddie! Love! I’m home!” Richie yells, kicking the door to the garage closed. Richie hears a long exaggerated groan from their bedroom. Turning the corner, Richie finds Eddie wriggling and moaning, his face planted in the sheets. 

“Babe?” Richie sits on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on the small of Eddie’s back. “How ya doing?”

“I feel like I’ve been boiled alive,” Eddie sighs, turning his head toward Richie. He smiles, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Richie smiles back. “Can I bring your dinner in here?” 

Eddie shakes his head, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t wanna eat in bed.”

“But that’s the best part of being sick! You get all the special treatment.”

“I’m not sick! I’m just a dumb ass who got heat stroke. And, I don’t want to get any crumbs in our bed.”

“Well, you’re recovering so I’m going to treat you like a sicky. Do you want to eat at the dinner table?”

“Can we eat in the Ice Box?”

“Oh! Yeah! That’s a great idea! It’s super cold down there.” 

Unlike the rest of their house, their movie room in the clubhouse basement is never the right temperature. Without the air on, the room is stuffy and suffocating, but with the air on, it’s a frigid tundra. Hence, the nickname, the “Ice Box”. Most of the time they just let the air blow, giving them an excuse to cuddle together under a pile of blankets.

“Alright, baby,” Richie claps his hands on his knees, standing up from the bed. “Come ‘ere.” He pulls back the sheets, looping his arms behind Eddie’s back and under his knees to lift him up.

“Richie!” Eddie winds his arms around Richie’s neck. “You don’t need to carry me anymore.”

“Of course I do,” Richie says, concentrating as he walks slowly down the stairs to the basement. “The doctor said you need to rest.” Opening the door to their movie room with his hip, he sidesteps through the door, careful not to knock Eddie’s head, then kneels down on the large modular sofa which is currently set-up as a large square. It resembles a bed more than a sofa. Letting Eddie slide out of his arms, Richie grins, “And I know much you love when I carry you.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie smiles, rolling his eyes as leans back on his arms, scooting onto the sofa. He lets out a sharp hiss, “Oh fuck! What the fuck!? Since when has this couch felt like it was covered in sand!?” He twitches back and forth from ass cheek to ass cheek, trying to escape the scratchy fabric.

“Oh fuck! Here, let me-” Richie’s eyes dart around the room, trying to find something helpful. His eyes spring open with an idea. “Oh! I know just the thing!” 

Richie rushes out of the room, leaving a baffled Eddie behind. When Richie comes back he’s carrying an armful of white bedsheets. Dropping them on the sofa, Richie flicks one open, allowing it to drift slowly down, covering both Eddie and the sofa. It makes him look like a lumpy ghost.

“Richie!” Eddie laughs, clawing the sheets away until his head pops out.

“Here, get on top of this,” Richie crawls on top of the sofa, stuffing the edges of the bedsheets into the corners, making a neat little bed. “Now, how does _that_ feel?” Richie asks, flicking open another sheet to drape over Eddie.

“Oooh,” Eddie sighs, delighted. He falls back onto the sofa, resting his head on a fluffy pillow. “Hmm, perfect. Thanks, Rich.”

“Good. Now I’ll be right back, ok, babe?”

A few minutes later Richie comes back down carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of matzo ball soup, a mini blue Gatorade, and his own tightly wrapped sandwich.

“There you go, my love.” Richie leans over the couch placing the tray on Eddie’s lap. Walking around the couch Richie crawls up the sofa, falling back against the cushions next to Eddie to take his sandwich. 

They eat in silence, happily munching on their food. It starts as a comfortable silence, but it gets more and more awkward the longer it goes and the less food there is to distract from the elephant in the room.

Eddie eats his soup slowly, taking small sips of his Gatorade while Richie slowly chews his sandwich, wrestling internally on how he should broach Eddie’s strange behavior. He doesn’t want to come off harsh or like he’s blaming Eddie, but he knows they need to talk about it. Popping the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, he looks over to find Eddie has cleaned his bowl and is drinking the last of his Gatorade, his head arched back, letting the last drops fall down his throat.

“Good?” 

Eddie pulls the bottle away from his lips, gasping for breath. He takes a few deep breaths, gasping out, “Yeah. It was great. Thanks, handsome.” Eddie lays a hand on Richie’s knee. 

“Anytime, babe.” Richie reaches over, giving Eddie’s knee a slight squeeze before crawling off the couch to take the tray out of Eddie’s lap. Richie whisks it away, coming back moments later to find Eddie squirming, clearly still uncomfortable.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Richie curls over the back of the couch, running a hand softly through Eddie’s hair. “I just had an idea.”

“Hmm?” 

“What if we took a little dip in the pool? Hmm? Cool you off a little bit. Then I can rub some aloe vera on you. How does that sound?”

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “You’re a genius.”

“I thought you’d like that.” Without another word, Richie starts striping, tossing his shirt over his shoulder, into the distance, and then unbuckles his belt. 

“ _Rich!?_ What _are_ you doing?”

“What?” Richie shrugs, pulling down his pants and boxers. “I’m just getting into my swimsuit.” Coming around the couch, Richie leans down on a knee, grabbing Eddie’s leg. “Come on, scoot down.” 

Throwing back the sheet, Eddie scoots down the couch toward Richie. “What?”

Richie doesn’t respond. He simply puts his hands under Eddie’s butt, lifting him up. Laughing, Eddie wraps his arms and legs around him. They make it outside with little fuss, Richie somehow managing to open the door to the backyard with his foot. Richie carries him all the way to the edge of the pool, standing over the deep end.

Digging his fingers into Eddie’s skin, Richie yells, “Okay! Hold on to ya butt!”

“What!? No, no, no!” Eddie tightens his arms around Richie’s neck, ducking his head into Richie’s shoulder, bracing for impact. When it doesn’t come, Eddie opens his eyes, pulling back to look between Richie and the simmering surface of the pool.

“Gotcha,” Richie winks, sticking his tongue out.

Eddie huffs in fond annoyance. “Je-sus, Rich.” 

Snickering, Richie walks to the shallow end, slowly wading into the still water of the “beach” edge where the water laps at his feet, walking all the way until he’s waist deep. 

Eddie sighs in Richie’s ear, relaxing as the cool water washes over his heated skin. “Mmh,” Eddie moans, “that feels good.” 

“Mmh. Good.” 

It should be sexy, the way they’re wrapped around each other - Eddie’s arms and legs wrapped tightly around Richie, Richie’s firm hands curved under Eddie’s butt - but Richie doesn’t feel the least bit turned on. He knows Eddie’s in pain and not feeling well.

Richie starts rocking his hips side to side while Eddie rests his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie half expects Eddie to make a snarky remark about being “rocked”, but he stays quiet. They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company and the still evening.

After a while Richie wonders if Eddie might have fallen asleep. Eddie’s arms around his neck have loosened, and his head is starting to droop. If he’s not asleep, then he’s least very _relaxed_. 

“Eds? Babe?”

Eddie hums, head rolling to the side.

“Is - uh - are you ok?”

“Hmm. I’m goood,” Eddie purrs.

“No, no. I mean - uh - is everything _o-kay_? You’ve been acting - um - a little strange lately.”

Eddie pulls back, a deep frown drawn on his face. “I - uh - I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps, extracting himself from Richie’s embrace, wading back to the shallow end.

“Oh, Eddie! Babe! Come on!” Richie yells, following Eddie’s wake. “I’m just worried about you. I wanna help. Come on, babe. Stop!”

Thankfully Eddie stops, knee deep in the pool. A frustrated sound rips out of him as he plops down in the water, resting his head on his knees which he’s pulled against his chest. Richie sits down next to him, scooting over until their sides touch. 

“Babe? Sweetheart?”

“This is so _embarrassing_!” Eddie cringes, curling tighter into himself.

“Babe, it’s just me. You’ve seen me do a shit ton of embarrassing stuff.”

“It’s stupid though.” 

“I’m sure it’s not stupid. Come on, tell me.”

Eddie sighs. “It’s just…,” He trails off, chewing his lip. 

Richie just sits there, skimming his hand over the gleaming water, waiting until Eddie’s ready to talk. 

“It’s just...I’ve never traveled internationally before. I’ve never been out of the states before. Not even to Canada! The furthest I’ve ever traveled from New York is - well - _here_ ! And it just freaks me out thinking about traveling all the way to - to _Switzerland_!”

“Hey, it’s ok, babe.”

“It’s just - just seems so _far!_ That flight will take like 16 hours! _16 HOURS!_ Did you know you can get blood clots flying that long!?” Eddie waves his arms through the air, almost hitting Richie’s face.

“Eds! Eds! Eddie!” Richie grabs Eddie flailing arms, pinning them down, holding them against his chest. “Babe. Breathe.” 

Staring at Richie with wild eyes, Eddie takes in a deep breath, breathing in through his nose, holding it, and then blowing it out through his mouth.

“There. That’s better.” Richie kisses the back of Eddie’s hand. “Babe, I know you’re nervous about traveling, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Richie adds, holding Eddie’s hands tight as he feels him pulling back. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re nervous about? Huh? We can talk through them. Yeah?”

Although he’s still frowning, Eddie nods, “Ok.”

“Ok. Well,” Richie starts, “I know a 16 hours flight doesn’t sound fun, but it does make it a little better if you're flying first class, let me tell you, but anyway people fly internationally everyday so I’m sure there’s a way to avoid - uh - blood clots.”

“Well, I’ve read doctors recommend getting up and walking every couple of hours. You know, to keep the blood flowing.”

“Ok, well there you go! We’ll make sure we get up every couple of hours and walk the plane. Anything else?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Well, what if someone gets hurt or injured? I’m assuming we’re going to go skiing at some point, but skiing is super fucking dangerous! Did you know skiing accidents makeup 6.4% of all accidents!? People get injured or die from skiing all the time!”

“Ok, well. _We_ don’t have to go skiing. God knows it’s not my favorite thing to do. I always get my skis crossed.”

“Still,” Eddie chews his lips, “What if something happens?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Like - like - what if we get into an accident!? What if one of us twists our ankle!? What if one of us comes down with appendicitis!? It’ll cost us a fortune if we have to go to a hospital in a foreign country! We’ll need to get international health insurance just to make sure we don’t go bankrupt!”

“Okay, so let’s do that,” Richie interrupts.

“Do what?”

“Get international health insurance or whatever you said.” 

“Ok, but it might cost a butt ton.”

Richie shrugs, “So what? If it’ll make you feel better, it’s fine. And, you know, if something does happen then we’ll be covered. Right?”

“Oh, okaay.” Eddie’s eyes narrow, a little suspicious at how easy this is.

“Mhm. What else?”

“Okay, well, what language am I supposed to learn?”

“Learn?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to seem like a rude dumb American! I want to be able to speak to people there, but they speak four different languages - German, French, Italian, and Romansh! Like, how I am supposed to learn all of those languages!?”

“Well, you don’t have to learn _all_ of them, and you don’t have to be _fluent_ in them. We just need to learn the really important phrases, like ‘where’s the restroom?’ How to count to ten. How to ask for another drink. We can use that green little bird app.” 

“Ugh, I hate that Duolingo bird.”

“I vote for learning Italian so I can serenade you,” Richie wraps his arms around Eddie, plastering his face in kisses.

Eddie laughs, bumping Richie’s shoulder. “Ok, Italian and French.”

“Done! We’ll download that stupid little bird tomorrow.” Richie gives Eddie’s cheek one more kiss.

Eddie smiles wide but it falls quickly as another thought occurs to him, “We’ll need to get a lot of stuff for our trip. Our Southern California clothes won’t stand up to the arctic tundra of Switzerland. And we’ll have to get adapters for our phones. We’ll need to change our phone plans. You know, so we don’t get charged up the wazoo.”

“Ok, ok. None of that’s a big deal. We’ll go shopping for some new clothes, get some long skivvies and big puffy jackets.”

“Okay,” Eddie’s eyes dart around, as if he’s starting to lose track of his anxieties, “What about custom agents?”

“Ex-squeeze me. WHAT!?”

“I mean,” Eddie’s eyes go wide, swinging side to side, embarrassed to look at Richie. “I know when you travel internationally you have to fill out a card or something. You have to declare shit, and then you have to be interviewed by a customs agent. What if - what if I fill my card out wrong!? What if I bring something in that I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to!? What if the custom agents want to interrogate me!?”

“Whoa, whoa, honey, calm down,” Richie grabs Eddie’s hand. “Listen, custom agents are like DMV workers. They act like their jobs are a prison sentence. They’re sad and miserable people. They do not give a flying fuck what you bring into the country as long as you’re not smuggling drugs or firearms. They’ll just blink and ask you to move along.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Trust me. There’s nothing to worry about. We just need to pray it doesn’t take too long to get through customs. That’s the _real_ horror - getting stuck in fuckin’ customs. It’s like the pits of hell.”

“We’ll need to go to the doctor,” Eddie jumps in, hoping to hold onto at least one of his anxieties. “I know that Switzerland is like a first world country and all, but we should make sure we’re caught up on our shots. See if we need to get anything special.”

“No problem! Let’s make an appointment.”

“Okaaay, well...what about…” Eddie trails off, staring at their joined hands. “What about us?”

Richie blinks, confused. “What about _us_?”

“I mean, is it _okay_ for us to hold hands in public? To kiss?”

“What? Of course it’s okay, honey!” 

“No, no. I mean, I don’t know how they feel about... _gay_ people in Switzerland. I don’t - I don’t want us to get attacked or anything.”

“Honey,” Richie scoots closer, hugging Eddie to his side. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. To _us_. And I know you wouldn’t either. I know you’d kick someone’s ass if they tried to hurt me.”

“Of course, but...I still don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, we can ask Ben & Bev. They’ve been there before. But, like, fuck what other people think.”

Eddie nods, face set in determination, “You’re right. You’re right. Fuck other people.”

With his face still set, Eddie falls into a bout of silence. 

“Good?” Richie leans forward into Eddie’s vision. “Anything else you’re worried about?”

A smile ghosts Eddie’s lips. “Not right now. I’m sure I’ll think of something else soon though.”

“Ok, well let me know when you do.” Richie presses his nose into Eddie’s cheek, puckering his lips to plant a kiss.

“Thanks, handsome.” Eddie rests his head on Richie’s shoulder.

“Anytime, love.”

“Rich?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can we go in? I’m starting to prune.”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Richie stands, pulling Eddie up. Leaning down he picks Eddie up, walking them out of the pool. 

“Rich!” Eddie yells, kicking his legs before Richie can walk inside the house. “We’re soaking wet! We can’t go into the house like this!”

“Okay, okaay,” Richie whines, turning back to place Eddie on a lounge chair. He grabs a neatly folded towel from a pile Eddie leaves out next to the chairs. Throwing the towel open, Richie wraps the towel around Eddie’s shoulders, delicately patting it. 

Eddie hisses. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry! Did I hurt you?” Richie pulls his hands back, frowning.

“Just stings a little bit.”

“Okay, hold on.” Richie goes back to slowly patting Eddie dry. “Almost - done. There!” 

“Thanks.” Eddie smirks before cocking an eyebrow at him, “You know, you have to dry yourself off too.”

“Ah, very true.” Richie dries himself off, making a show out of it as much as possible - wiggling his butt, flexing his muscles. Throwing the towel to the side, Richie places his hands on his hips, jutting them out to the side, “All done!”

Eddie laughs, reaching his hands out toward Richie. “Good job, handsome. You can carry me now.” 

Richie reaches out, lifting Eddie into his arms. “Do you wanna to go to the bedroom or back down to the Ice Box?” Richie asks, stepping into the house.

“Mhm, Ice Box.”

“As you wish!” 

Richie slowly walks down the stairs to the basement, thankful Eddie made him dry off as he thinks of slipping and falling on his ass with Eddie in his arms. Entering the Ice Box, Richie shivers, the cold air hitting his slightly damp skin.

“Fuck, it’s _freezing_ in here!” Richie’s skin crawls with goosebumps as he places Eddie down on the sofa.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, “I like it.”

“Ok, well you stay here and enjoy the cool breeze. I’m gonna go put some clothes on so my balls don’t freeze off.”

“Bring the aloe vera!” Eddie yells as Richie runs out of the room and up the stairs. 

When Richie comes back he’s dressed in baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, aloe vera in hand. 

“Alright, sweetheart, roll over for me,” Richie taps Eddie’s thigh, scooting up the sofa. 

As Richie squeezes a glob of sticky green aloe vera into the palm of his hand, Eddie rolls onto his stomach, the sheets pooling around his white waist. 

Scooting close to Eddie on his knees, Richie flings back the sheet revealing Eddie’s bright white ass and a stark contrasting line of red a couple of inches below, marking the edge of Eddie’s long-gone shorts.

After rubbing his hands together Richie digs the heels of his hands into Eddie’s shoulders, spreading the sticky substance along his back. Eddie relaxes underneath Richie’s talented hands, sighing in content. 

Richie works along Eddie’s shoulders and arms, stroking long and deep into Eddie’s taught muscles. Once Eddie’s shoulders are covered Richie moves his hands lower, down Eddie’s back, pressing his thumbs into the valley of Eddie’s spine. Even though Eddie’s back is unblemished, Richie spends time kneading the stubborn knots he finds under his fingers. 

“You know, baby” Richie says, breaking the silence, “we don’t - we don’t have to go.”

Eddie stiffens underneath Richie, pushing up on his arms to twist toward him. “What?” Eddie whispers, confusion lacing his voice.

“We don’t _have_ to go, you know?” Richie pulls his hands back, resting them in his lap.

“But - but what about the other Losers?”

“They’ll understand, baby. They’re our friends.”

Eddie’s brow is knotted in confusion, his mind whirling with this new idea. “Really? You would be ok with not going?”

“I mean, of course I’ll miss our friends, but if it makes you feel better, then yeah. Of course I’m ok with it. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I mean, I’m sorry I agreed to it without even talking to you. I just - uh - I just wasn’t thinking.”

Eddie stares at Richie for a moment, thinking over Richie’s words. He sits up, pulling his knees into his chest, frowning as tears start to brim in his eyes.

“Baby?” Richie whispers, placing a sticky hand on Eddie’s calf, worried Eddie’s mad at him.

Eddie shakes his head, causing the tears to fall. “No, no. It’s ok. I’m not mad. I mean, why would you ever think I wouldn’t want to go on a vacation to Switzerland with our best friends?” Eddie takes an unsteady breath. “The thing is...I _really want_ to go. I really, really do. I’m just scared, you know? Ma would only go so far as New York for vacation, and Myra wasn’t much better. Fuck, we went to _Martha’s Vineyard_ for our honeymoon. I always wanted to go traveling, but Ma and Myra always talked me out of it, and over the years I guess I...just...lost the urge. I started seeing it as something to be afraid of. That it was better to stay in the comforts of our home then go exploring. But, I don’t want to be like that anymore.” Eddie looks up at Richie, tears still brimming. “I want to see new places and experience new things, especially with you.”

“Yeah?” Richie’s grip tightens, “I wanna take you everywhere, baby.”

“Ok, then let’s go.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Eddie says, a fire burns in his eyes. “I don’t wanna to be scared anymore. I mean, I’m still scared, but I want to face it. I wanna - I wanna be brave.”

Richie places a hand on Eddie’s cheek, covering his razor-thin scar. “You’re braver than you think.” 

“Thanks, Rich.” Eddie smiles.

Richie leans in, kissing Eddie softly, tasting his tears. He pulls his hand back, which comes away reluctantly, the sticky residue pulling at Eddie’s skin.

“Oh, RIch!”

“Oh, sorry, babe.” Richie frowns, looking between Eddie’s cheek and his hand. 

Eddie huffs, whipping the sticky residue from his cheek. “Can you get my legs?”

“Yeah, of course. Flip over for me.”

Slicking his hands up again, Richie grabs Eddie’s thick thighs, kneading his fingers over Eddie’s red skin. Just as he finishes rubbing the area of skin above Eddie’s ankle, he hears soft snores coming from Eddie. 

Whipping his hands on his sweatpants, Richie pulls the sheet back up Eddie’s body. Grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa, Richie lays down, swaddling himself, somehow still cold underneath his multiple layers of clothes. He scoots over to Eddie, getting as close as he can without pressing up against his raw skin.

Mumbling, half-sleep, Eddie turns toward Richie, his eyes batting open. “Aren’t you going to cuddle with me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Eddie shakes his head, grabbing one of Richie’s hands to place it on his sheet clad waist. “Here, just here.”

Scooting closer, Richie curves his arm around Eddie, pressing his hand to the small of his back. “I love you, baby,” Richie whispers, the feeling of it burning in his chest.

“I love you, too,” Eddie smiles as he closes his eyes, nestling his head into the sofa.

Richie lays there, content on watching Eddie and feeling the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing.

Just before sleep overcomes him, Richie whispers, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” Eddie responds, eyes still closed.

“You’ll let me help you peel your skin, right?”

Eddie’s eyes burst open to stare at Richie. “That is the _weirdest_ thing you have ever said to me.”

Kissing Eddie on his sunburned nose, Richie laughs, “No it’s not.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- I really wanted to address Eddie’s anxieties in this story as the last few have been about Richie and his fears and anxieties. Eddie’s main personality trait is always portrayed as being hypochondriac.; I think the root of that is just good ol’ anxiety. 
> 
> \- I know it seems a little silly for someone to be anxious about flying internationally, but the thing about anxiety is that it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Your mind will play tricks on you and make you think about all of the horrible things that could happen. You then go down this deep dark hole and you try to think about how best protect yourself against those dangers. I imagine Eddie goes through that a lot - analyzing the risks and then thinking of ways to mitigate them. I mean, it’s literally his job.
> 
> Also, all of Eddie’s fears about traveling internationally were inspired by thoughts I had before traveling internationally for the first time. Yes, even the fear of custom agents.
> 
> \- I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I chose Switzerland as where the Losers will be spending their holiday vacation. I wanted it to be someplace far away and exotic (to them) and as well as somewhere romantic. I thought out of all the Losers Bev & Ben would be the most well traveled. I imagined Ben would be working on the Lego house (since I base his career on Bjarke Ingels’) for years so they would probably travel to the Swiss Alps a lot since they’re so close. It thought it would be a fun, romantic winter getaway for the Losers. 
> 
> \- Part 8 will be a Christmas/Hanukkah story. I obviously did not publish it in time for the 2020 holiday season, but I hope everyone will still enjoy reading it during the non-holiday season. And, yes, I PROMISE there will be a proposal in Part 8. 
> 
> \- As always, thank you so much for reading! You have no idea what it means to me. Please leave kudos and comments. I love hearing from you!
> 
> \- You can follow me on Twitter (@EKaspraktozier) and on Tumblr (@eddiekaspraktozier)!


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